Milkovich's Penis

Before you read this, please note that I've had to change the spelling on some of the names of the people referenced in this story, to keep this blog entry from being searchable by Google filters. I don't have permission to blog this story. I'd rather that the people involved (or their lawyers) not find this via a Google Search and throw a legal hissy fit.

Your eyes are not deceiving you. The names are intentionally misspelled.

This guy, Bill, is one of the acting teachers here at the theater.



He's a pretty well known actor around town. He's been "in the game" for a bunch of years. (A VG timeline that I saw recently referenced a show that he performed in, in 1975. The year I was born.) He teaches one of the most popular classes at our theater.

He and I are getting to be friends. I helped him dodge an annoying guy who was harassing him about producing one of Bill's plays. This guy had offended my boss, one of my co-workers and Bill. When I finally called this guy and told him that the play wasn't available and that ended all discussion, he agreed to drop it. Bill thanked me for that. I tactfully ended something that he had been dodging for weeks. So, we're friends now. We chat and he's threatening to go out to the local bar with me, after his last class, with the other teachers here. A really nice guy.

Today, we were talking about the "impermanence of theater". How you do a show for so long and when it's done, you have very little to show for it, except some posters or some programs. I've recently stumbled across the philosophy that we accept the hard parts of this lifestyle with the singular goal of being able to enjoy this lifestyle for as long as we can. That's the goal. To do it as long as we possibly can. To become one of "the old farts" hanging around the theater. Because as long as we have a keen mind and the verbal faculties to express ourselves, we have something to offer an audience.

"Don't forget the memories," he said, "they have value too."

"Sure," I said. I absolutely agreed with him. My memories of my shows are very valuable to me.

"I have seen and done some shit in shows, that is STILL with me," he said. "I'll tell you one of them, really quickly." And he told me a story that involved these two fine, American actors of the modern stage.



and



"We were doing 'Uncle Vanya', this was, what, ten twenty years ago and John and John were in it with me. The two John's."

"The central action was happening downstage. Something really heavy and dramatic. I'm playing "Waffles" and I am am barely in this scene. I'm upstage from the action of the show and I'm playing this song on guitar. I don't know how to play guitar, but I've learned these two songs for the show and how to noodle around in them, if I need to."

"Anyways, I'm upstage and I feel like my fingers are bleeding, because I'm not used to playing guitar. And just when I think I can't take it anymore, I look over and there's Milkovich. And he's got his back turned to the audience, a full house audience mind you and his pants are unzipped and his wang is hanging out."

"And he's smiling at me, waiting for me to see it."

"It throws me for a second, but I try to recover and not laugh outloud, and that's when John Mihoney walks onto stage, carrying his props, I think it was a wine bottle and he walks right into Milkovich, who looks up at him and whispers, 'Hey John, how do you think Bill is at playing the skin guitar?' and he looks down and sees Milkovich's penis."

"And Mihoney, who is famous for breaking up onstage, turns bright red, turns away from the audience and is just gasping for air, trying not to draw the audiences attention away from whatever was happening downstage. He almost dropped that wine bottle right then and there."

"I laughed quietly to myself and just kept playing that guitar."

"They're funny guys, those two. Watch out though. If you're ever onstage with them, they'll try to get you."

Bill and I laughed and laughed about that one.